


Will Your Readership Complain the Stories Always End the Same

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is not an idiot. He knows that genies never just grant wishes. Something always goes wrong. Plus, his genie seems like a dick, so he's definitely going to be careful about this. He wasn't born yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will Your Readership Complain the Stories Always End the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderinglilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinglilly/gifts).



> wanderinglilly asked for an Aladdin Bellarke AU with Murphy as the genie, and this kind of ended up being, like, Bellamy Blake accidentally adopts people because he's Bellamy Blake, but with Murphy as a genie, so, uh, yes? Things have, as always, occurred in my life. I hope you enjoy it!

Bellamy Blake has learned to be careful what he wishes for.

When he was four, he wished for a father, and within a year, Michael had appeared, like magic. Within two more years, Bellamy had a baby sister and a broken arm from Michael shoving him into a door that never set right, and Michael was gone again. He didn't wish for any more fathers, but they'd show up every few months, assholes cycling in and out of his life. He wished Octavia would have a better childhood than his, and he thinks she has, largely because she has him to look out for her, to keep her away from the worst things. And he's glad of that, he is, he just wishes she got it some other way. 

But that wish is long dead.

Bellamy has wished for a better life in a thousand big and small ways, but now, looking at the genie, he thinks this probably isn't what he was looking for either.

"Come on, I don't have all day," says the genie.

"Yes, you do," says Octavia. "You're Bell's genie, right? All you have to do now is whatever he wants."

The genie scowls at O. "My lamp gets cable, okay?"

Bellamy glances at the "lamp." He's seen _Aladdin_ , of course--he has a baby sister who needed to be distracted a lot, he has seen the entire Disney oeuvre and then some--and that lamp at least kind of made sense. It had something for a genie to come out of, an interior where a magical being could sort of in theory live in. This is a fucking flashlight he found on the bus, and if he hadn't seen an actual genie come out of it, he definitely would not believe this was happening. For a lot of reasons.

He still can't really believe it.

"Okay," he says, scrubbing his face. "What were the rules again?"

"No making people fall in love, that shit is boring," says the genie. "No bringing anyone back from the dead. I am not starting the zombie apocalypse. Or, actually, never mind, that's fine. If you want me to bring someone back from the dead, that's fine. Zombie apocalypse sounds awesome. Uh, no wishing for more wishes. No free cash."

"The genie in _Aladdin_ did money," says Octavia. She's really on top of this genie shit.

"Yeah, well, the genie in _Aladdin_ was working with a gold-based economy, so shut up," says the genie. "No one tracks gold. You want cash you need to tell me which bank I'm taking it from."

"Are you just making these rules up?"

"Basically," the genie says, without contrition. "I get three rules and I'm giving you resurrecting the dead, so you're losing easy money. Sucks to be you"

Bellamy rubs his face. "There's no way these are going to work out for me, is there? I've seen the movies. I've read the books. Wishes _never_ work out."

But there's so much stuff he could _use_. Can the genie get him legal custody of his sister? He can't imagine his mom is going to try to get her back, but it would be a load off his mind. He can't get free cash, but he could get something. Some expensive car he could sell. A higher-paying job. He could wish for a new scholarship that will cover him and Octavia for school forever.

But how much power does this genie even have? If Bellamy wishes for a new apartment, he's going to have to pay for it somehow, someday. He'll need a deed. People don't just get things for free, and if he starts to, someone is going to be suspicious.

Wishes always go wrong. They're too literal, or too broad, or too greedy, and they fuck everything up.

And, honestly, his genie seems like a total dick.

"I need to think about it," he says, finally, and sizes up the genie. He looks mostly human, except for the floating and the trail of smoke connecting him to the flashlight. He's even wearing normal clothes, which is a relief. Bellamy doesn't want to see the dude in harem pants. "Can you lose the smoke?" 

"Why? I like the smoke. It's cool."

"Because if you're going to be hanging around, I don't want to explain that. Do you have a name? Jean?"

"Fuck no. Murphy."

"How is that better?" Bellamy asks.

"Your name is Bellamy, shut up." He squints at Bellamy. "Most people come up with their wishes in like ten minutes."

"What do they wish for?" asks Octavia.

"Bigger dick," says Murphy.

"Dude, she's fourteen," Bellamy says.

"So I know what dicks are," Octavia counters. "Do girls want bigger boobs?"

"Not as often. But fame, like, all the time. I have given so many people reality shows."

"And no one notices these people just came out of nowhere and got TV shows?"

"Dude, no one, including network execs, knows where reality TV shows come from. I didn't even start the weirdest ones."

"I don't want fame or a bigger dick," Bellamy says, firm. "And I have to get to work."

"So I can stay here. Hang out with your sister, watch TV--"

"We don't have cable," Octavia says. "We still have a VCR."

"Holy fuck, no, you have cable now," says Murphy. "If you're not letting me leave, you're getting cable."

"Do we have a contract? Am I gonna start getting bills?"

Murphy rolls his eyes. "It's magic. Let it go."

"Whatever. Look, I don't know you well enough to leave you alone with my sister, so you're coming with me. You can read."

"I hate you," says Murphy, which sounds about right.

Bellamy is a junior at Penn State, because Penn State gave him the best financial aid of any of the places he got into. And it's not like he doesn't like it. But he's working two jobs and taking care of his little sister on top of that, which is a lot, in his opinion. A genie should, in theory, be the answer to his prayers.

He grabs _1,001 Arabian Nights_ on his way to the checkout desk when he gets to the library; Murphy just says, "College bookstores have comic books now, right?" and grabs a stack of graphic novels. Bellamy's not convinced _Fun Home_ is really his speed, but if he accidentally gets some culture, who is Bellamy to argue?

The library job is Bellamy's favorite. He works at a restaurant a few nights a week, which is a lot better pay, but he kind of hates it. He was not made for customer service positions. But the library is great. He works Saturday afternoons and Tuesday evenings, which tend to be pretty quiet, and his boss doesn't care if he does his homework or reads or dicks around on the internet. It's a nice break from the rest of his life, honestly.

And, just after seven, his favorite part of his library shift breezes in.

Clarke Griffin is a junior too, and he met her last year in his art history class. Or, well, he learned of her. It was a giant seminar, so they didn't really chat that much, but they were the two most outspoken students in the class, so they developed a kind of camaraderie. 

He'd missed her this year, mostly because--honestly, she's cute, and smart, and sarcastic, which is what he likes in a girl. And there's just something about her. 

Luckily, her library schedule corresponds pretty well with his work schedule this semester, and he thinks it might even be on purpose. He hasn't figured out how to use that suspicion to his advantage, but he's working on it. Slowly. Deliberately.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the desk. She _always_ says hi when she comes in. It's awesome. "How's your week going?"

"It's only Tuesday," he says. "So--already terrible."

She grins. "You are like the grumpiest person I know."

"Thanks, I think. Don't tell me you had a _good_ Monday. No one has good Mondays."

"You could have had a good Tuesday."

Bellamy glances over at Murphy, who's watching them instead of reading _Pride of Baghdad_. Bellamy cannot feel good about that. Are all genies dicks, or did he just get lucky? "My Tuesday has been pretty weird," he admits. "How's your asshole archaeology prof?" he asks, turning his attention fully back to her. There is no reason to look at Murphy when Clarke's around.

"Oh my god, such an asshole!" Clarke says, and he bites back on a grin. "Seriously, I got that paper back and it's like--" She makes a frustrated noise. "He told us, specifically, that we didn't need to draw from other sources, and then he yelled at us for not drawing on other sources! I showed him my notes and he was like, _I expect more from my students_ , like that was some sort of valid argument. I don't care if you want us to go above and beyond, don't say one thing and expect another. That's not above and beyond, that's reading his fucking mind."

Bellamy gives up on hiding his smile. She's so _indignant_ , it's awesome. "Yeah, I've had profs like that."

Clarke drops her head onto the checkout desk. "I should have dropped, but I don't want to let him win, so--"

"So you're going to show him?"

"Do you know how many sources I'm going to use in my next paper? I'm going to _bury_ him in sources."

"Mature."

"I try." She raises her head to smile at him. "Anyway, I have a shitload of anatomy to do. When are you done?"

"Eleven."

"Awesome, I'll just leave when you do. I'll be on the third floor, if I'm not down here, will you come make sure I'm not dead?"

"Sure," he says, swallowing past a lump in his throat. She's never asked to leave with him before, or asked him to check up on her. That's got to be good news, right? Progress.

She waves and takes off, and Bellamy manages to only stare at her for a couple seconds before dragging his attention back to his book.

Of course, that's when Murphy comes up and says, "So, it's the love rule, huh?"

"What?"

"If I could just make her fall in love with you, you'd know what to wish for," Murphy says. "This is why I won't do it, it's just pathetic."

"I wouldn't wish for that," he says, absent. "It's fucking creepy. I don't want to--I'd just ask her out, thanks. I don't need you doing shit about it."

"So why aren't you?"

"Don't tell me you're giving me love advice," Bellamy says. "You live in a flashlight. You don't know anything about dating."

"I'm stuck with you until you make three wishes. I've got to do something to make you hurry up. So, sure, tell me about whatever pathetic crush you've got on that girl. It's like cable, but sadder."

It's tempting to not talk about it, but--honestly, he doesn't really have a lot of people to talk to about this stuff. His closest friend is Miller, the dishwasher at the restaurant where he works, and they don't really have that kind of relationship. Mostly they occasionally get beers and watch sports and pretend to care about them. Which is pretty good, as far as he's concerned. He likes having normal friends.

"She's cool," he tells Murphy, shrugging. "But way out of my league. Her dad's the chair of the engineering department, her mom's--the fucking Secretary of Health. For the president. She's, like--" He shrugs. "She's great, but the last guy she dated was literally the president's son. So, yeah. I live in a shitty apartment taking care of my baby sister. There's no way."

"Yeah, I was right, I don't care," says Murphy. "So, cash? You want cash?"

"No. I'll let you know when I figure it out." He worries his lip. "Can you go back in the flashlight? I don't want you hanging out while I'm talking to her."

"You can wish for me to go away."

Bellamy raises his eyebrows. "Are you seriously going to make me waste a wish getting rid of you? You know if you don't go in the flashlight you're going to have to watch me fucking failing to flirt with the girl I like."

Murphy makes a disgusted face. "Fine. But you're gonna check out some of the comic books for me."

"Deal."

Reading the Arabian Nights doesn't give Bellamy any more ideas about what to wish for. It feels like it should be easy--his whole life, he's wanted better luck than he had, and this is it. But it all feels--dangerous. If he wishes for something and it goes wrong, he'll be worse off than he started.

Murphy takes out three books and goes back into the flashlight at ten-forty-five, and Clarke comes back down a few minutes later.

"You didn't die," he observes.

"It was close." She offers him a smile. "How was your shift?"

"Not bad. Got some reading in for my history class, no drunk kids harassed me."

She laughs. "I can't believe you get drunk kids in here stirring up shit on _Tuesday_. Who does that?"

"I can't believe you're a real college student. Don't you know you can get drunk any night, if you just believe in yourself?"

"How could I forget?" She worries her lip, like she's nervous. "You don't mind if I wait for you, do you? It's just kind of late, I don't want to go home by myself. But I can call my roommate or something, if--"

"No, it's fine," he assures her. He has no idea where she lives, but he already told Octavia he was going to be home late, and he doesn't care how far out of his way he has to go. "I don't mind. I don't want you walking home alone either."

He's rewarded with her brilliant smile, and a soft, "Thanks, Bellamy." He does his best not to blush and mostly succeeds.

Monty relieves him for the late shift, and Bellamy grabs his stuff, making sure the flashlight is in his pocket before he goes to meet Clarke, and that's when the nervousness sets in. He's never really had a long talk with her alone; it's just been a few conversations in class and their interactions when he's at work. He doesn't know what kind of stuff he's supposed to chat with her about.

Luckily, Clarke's apparently on top of it.

"Any cool summer plans?"

"Just working," he says. "You?"

"Internship, social events, being the perfect daughter for my mom," she says, with a roll of her eyes. "Not that I'm upset to have a future secured, but--god. She's making me go to this hospital benefit this week? Like, a thousand dollars a plate, and half of that is going to the menu, so--" She waves her hand. "I just hate that stuff, I don't know. It all feels so fake. Plus, my mom thinks I've been single for long enough and this is a good opportunity for me to _publicly move on_ ," she adds, making finger quotes. "Which--I cannot imagine anyone cares? But Wells is engaged so obviously if I'm not dating someone it somehow reflects poorly on her. And, sorry, this is boring and going into total _my diamond shoes are too tight_ territory, right? And we're not even--yeah, sorry."

"It's fine," Bellamy says, smiling. "Seriously. When's the benefit?"

"Friday. That's why I'm stressing about it. It's kind of a big deal, that's where I want to do med school, so I want to make a good impression, but my mom is going to be throwing people at me. She has some senator's daughter she claims is prefect for me, and--" She sighs. "I've got better shit to worry about, right?"

"I assume so, yeah. But she could be cute."

Clarke smiles a little. "I don't really trust my mom's taste in women, honestly." She nudges him. "What about you? Do you have exciting stuff planned this week?"

"Not yet." His mind is whirling, a little bit. One wish, out of three. Just--this one party. And he has two more wishes to help out Octavia, to do real stuff. But it's safe, right? It's a good test for Murphy's powers. If it goes wrong, he might embarrass himself in front of a bunch of rich people, but he'll deserve it for using a wish on his pathetic crush on Clarke Griffin. "Maybe I'll see if I can still get a ticket to this benefit. Sounds like a total trainwreck."

Clarke raises her eyebrows, clearly dubious. "You want to go to a hospital benefit? I didn't think that would be your scene."

It doesn't sound like she means it as a money thing, more of an interest thing, and Bellamy figures he might as well take a risk. "Well, you're going to be there, right?"

She ducks her head, looking pleased. "Yeah, I'll be there."

Octavia is asleep when he gets back, and he doesn't really feel great about making any wishes without her. Maybe she'll want to come to the benefit or something. She deserves to have some fun too. Or maybe she'll tell him that's the worst waste of a wish of all time and tell him to get her some nicer school clothes or something instead.

He still gets Murphy out of the flashlight.

"Sorry to interrupt your TV time. I assume you want to sleep in there instead of the couch? Do you eat?" He rubs his face. "Christ, I should just wish for shit, I don't need another kid to look out for."

"Fuck you, I'm like two thousand years old."

"That's depressing," he says. "Food? Couch? Shower? You set?"

Murphy gives him a wary look, like he's waiting for a trick. "You got me out of the lamp for that?"

"Flashlight. I don't want you to starve to death before I get my wishes, okay?"

There's a pause, and then Murphy says, "You got beer?"

He sends the genie back into the lamp with a six pack and then collapses into bed. It's been one fucking weird day.

*

The next morning he wakes up at 6:30, as usual, to get Octavia ready for school. She insists she can do it alone, but there's no way. It's the least he can do.

"I think I figured out my first wish. Kind of a test run, see what kind of genie he is."

"Yeah?"

"There's some fancy party at the hospital on Friday. Benefit." He can't help flushing at her look. "What?"

"You want to go to a fancy party at a hospital?"

"A friend of mine is going," he says, and she stares for a minute before she starts to cackle. "Jesus Christ, O, it's too early to laugh like that. What the fuck?"

"You want to use a wish on a _girl you like_ ," she says. "That's--I knew you were a total softy, but come on."

"She said it was gonna suck," he mutters. 

"Oh, yeah, I can see why you wanna go." She rolls her eyes. "I hope she's cute."

"She's cool," he says. "And if it goes wrong, we'll know before we make, you know. Real wishes. Stuff for you."

That makes he sober. "You don't have to just ask for stuff for me, Bell. You can have--he's _your_ creepy genie."

"Stuff for us, fine. You want to come to this stupid party with me, or stay home and laugh?"

"How fancy is it?"

"She said it was like a thousand dollars a plate," he admits.

"This is gonna be a _disaster_ ," says Octavia. "I want in."

They hash out the details of the wish until Octavia leaves for the bus, and then Bellamy goes and passes out for a couple more hours. Once he's properly awake, he gets the oatmeal he made for Octavia warmed up and coffee made and then gets Murphy out of the flashlight and feeds him.

For some reason, Murphy seems to take this as a threat. "What the fuck is this?"

"It's food. You drink beer, I figure you eat."

"Yeah," says Murphy, scowling at the bowl, and then stabbing his spoon into it, like stabbing oatmeal is somehow an effective attack. "Thanks," he adds, finally, grudging.

"Sure. I figured out my first wish, by the way."

Murphy stops mid-mouthful. "Oh. So that's why."

"Why what?"

There's a long pause, and Murphy finishes his oatmeal and then says, "Okay, fine. What's the wish?"

"There's this benefit at the hospital on Friday. Me and Octavia want to go."

"What the hell is a benefit?"

"Big fancy party for rich people."

Murphy snorts. "So your girlfriend is going and you want to go too, huh?"

"Basically," Bellamy admits. "I have to make it an actual wish, right? Like, starting with I wish, all that jazz?" Murphy shrugs his assent, and Bellamy sighs. "This feels really stupid. Finish your oatmeal first."

"You're stupid," Murphy mutters, but he doesn't manage much heat. "Is there coffee?"

They eat in silence, and then play video games until he has to go to class, and Bellamy ends up putting off actually making any wishes until Friday morning. What's weirdest is that Murphy doesn't actually seem upset about it. Bellamy was expecting him to be complaining about how they weren't making wishes, but he seems to feel like the apartment is at least as cool a place to hang out as his flashlight, which--fair enough. It's not the coolest place ever, but it's not a _flashlight_. Bellamy cannot imagine it's that great, living in a flashlight.

Friday morning, he sits Murphy down and says, "Okay, my first wish. I wish for me and Octavia to go to the benefit at the Hershey Medical Center tonight, as guests, dressed in appropriate formal attired, with valid invitations."

Murphy squints at him. "You know when you put in that much detail I just want to find a loophole, right?"

"That was part of what I was testing," he says. "But yeah, I already knew that." He scrubs his face. "Is that a valid wish? Are we good?"

"Valid, yes. Cool, no. Wish for a jet pack or something."

"What would I do with a jet pack?" He pauses and says, "Okay, I'd figure something out, that would probably be cool, but--not right now. Anyway, I'm going to work. Don't burn down the apartment."

Murphy looks vaguely insulted. "You're not worried I'm going to kill your sister or something?"

Bellamy shrugs. "She could probably take you."

Really, it's that Murphy has been upgrading the apartment, ostensibly for his own benefit, but it's not really the kind of thing Bellamy thinks he'd do if he was planning to nuke the place later. They have a Blu-Ray player and a nicer TV, and a better stove appeared while Bellamy was sleeping on Wednesday night, after he burned dinner. And there's more food in the fridge and the cupboards, replacing the stuff he's been eating.

So, yeah. Probably Murphy isn't plotting to kill them. Or, if he is, he's probably poisoning the food or something, in which case they're already dead.

"You ever just look at your life and go, _what happened_?" he asks Miller. Miller just sort of looks at him, and Bellamy sighs. "Yeah, thought so."

*

He gets back from class on Friday to find Octavia and Murphy on the couch, eating some junk food he definitely never bought and watching Hulu, which they didn't have, on a Wii U they also didn't have.

"You guys are disgusting," he says.

"Like you wouldn't be right here with us if you hadn't had class," says Octavia.

"I would be getting ready. We're going to a party, remember?"

"Murphy's getting us ready for the party. Murphy's magic. No prep time required."

Murphy smirks at Bellamy over the back of the couch, and Bellamy wonders how exactly he got a _second_ little sibling who doesn't listen to or respect him. At least this one gives them free shit.

"Yeah, Bellamy, I'm magic," says Murphy.

"You know you can't use magic for everything, right, O?"

"Not _everything_. Literally just this one thing. Stop worrying."

"He's just nervous about seeing his girlfriend," says Murphy.

"He thinks we're gonna embarrass him," Octavia agrees, and they high five. It's already terrifying, as a development in his life, but then what she actually _said_ sinks in, and he feels the blood drain from his face.

"What do you mean, we?"

"Hey, you put a lot of stuff into your stupid specific wish," says Murphy. "But you never said I couldn't come."

Which is how he ends up outside the Penn State medical center in a really fucking nice tux--good job, Murphy--with his baby sister and his--genie.

"This is going to be a disaster," he says, rubbing his face.

"Yeah, that's why I'm here."

"And I bet there's a ton of free food. _Fancy_ food."

"You're literally a magical being," Bellamy grumbles. "Can't you just make yourself fancy food whenever you want?"

"Not while I'm also laughing at you trying to hit on a girl," says Murphy, and Bellamy doesn't actually have a counterargument for that. As far as evenings of entertainment for Octavia and Murphy go, watching him flail around trying to hit on Clarke at a fancy party while they snag weird h'orderves from passing waiters is probably as good as it gets.

"At least someone's going to have fun," he says, and leads his weird party into the benefit.

Before this, the fanciest party Bellamy had ever been to was his high-school prom, which he went to with a group of friends and felt totally awkward at. And he was even _supposed_ to be there, unlike this party, which he literally got into by magic. The benefit is full of rich people in fancy outfits having conversations that seem, honestly, terrible. He is among the one-percent, and he's just grateful that they are supplying him with free booze. It's the least they can do, honestly.

"Are you even going to be able to find her?" Octavia asks, frowning as she looks around. "This is--huge. And everyone looks like an asshole."

"Language," Bellamy says, like he wasn't saying worse at fourteen. Like they don't deserve it. "I'll find her or I won't. At least we all learned a valuable lesson about Murphy."

"No we didn't, shut up," says Murphy. "I could still fuck this up for you."

"Yeah," Bellamy says, absent, because the crowd has parted in such a way that he _does_ see Clarke, looking gorgeous in a silver dress, with her hair gathered up in an elegant twist, smiling at someone in a way that, at least to him, suggests she would like to be anywhere else.

At least, until their eyes catch, and he sees hers widen in surprise before a real smile, bright and delighted, takes over her face. She turns back to the people she was talking to, and he sees her nod, incline her head, and then leave the conversation, coming his way.

"Please be normal for like ten minutes," he hisses to Octavia and Murphy.

"I can be normal for way longer than that," Octavia protests, vaguely indignant. "Is that her? She's pretty."

"Murphy's a bad influence." He wets his lips. "Yeah, that's her."

Clarke gives him a once-over that makes him flush, and he might actually have to thank Murphy for the tux. Which would be embarrassing. "Hi," she says. "I didn't really think you were serious about coming."

"Yeah, well," he says. It's admittedly pretty pathetic as answers go, but she's smiling at him and the neckline of her dress is insane. Bellamy likes Clarke a lot as a person, he has no interest in objectifying her, but it's really hard to _not_ notice what her dress is doing for her breasts. "You sounded like you could use a friendly face."

"A thousand bucks is a lot to be a friendly face. And you brought--friends?"

He looks around, but Octavia and Murphy have actually fled to a respectable distance, where they are loading up their plates with free food. He probably should have seen this one coming.

"My sister, yeah. And, uh--"

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh, jesus, no," he says. "Uh, I know there's no way to say you're not dating someone without sounding vaguely like you're in denial about wanting to date them, but--no way." He pauses. "I can't actually explain him, though."

Clarke laughs. "So, you paid three thousand bucks for you, your sister, and some guy who is not your boyfriend to come to a benefit? That's--some money to burn."

"Would it make you feel better if I said we got ourselves in for free using only our innate skills and charm?"

That earns him a calculating look, like she's trying to figure out if he's bullshitting her or not. He gives her his best innocent smile, and she shakes her head and takes his arm. "I honestly can't tell if you're joking or not. I'm going to assume you aren't, because you have got to have better things to do with your money than this."

"I really do," he admits. "But--"

"Clarke, have you met--" 

The woman who approaches them must be Clarke's mother, mostly because she's with Clarke's father and looks rich and influential. Her eyes drop to Clarke's hand on Bellamy's arm, and then come back up to take Bellamy in. He tries not to fidget too much, but--she's kind of scary, honestly. And she's with a very intense brunette who's also eyeing him critically, and he looks damn good in his suit, but it's still hard to not feel kind of--well, he's a poor brown kid at a charity dinner. They probably think he's a waiter.

"I didn't realize you'd brought a date," says Clarke's mother, too brightly.

"He brought himself," Clarke says. "Bellamy, this is my mother, Abby Griffin. Mom, this is Bellamy Blake, he's a friend of mine. And--I don't believe we've met, no," she adds, giving the brunette a smile.

"This is Senator Walden's daughter, Lexa," says Mrs. Griffin, absently, because she's still mostly looking at Bellamy, like she's trying to remember where she's seen him before. The answer is definitely nowhere. "Blake, did you say? You aren't related to Peter Blake, are you?"

"Not as far as I know," says Bellamy. He offers his hand to Lexa, figuring it's polite, and they manage basic pleasantries before Clarke's refusal to let go of him apparently convinces her this is not a conversation he should be a part of. Clarke's mother's repeated questions about his family probably don't help matters.

"Where are you from, exactly?" she asks, once Lexa is gone and she's apparently exhausted her supply of rich people named Blake that he could be related to.

"Mom," says Clarke, a warning.

"I'm from Philadelphia," he says. He glances at Clarke, wondering where to go from here. He should have told her--honestly, he should have just said one of those people was a relation. There can't be that many families rich enough Clarke's mom has heard of them, and he should have just pretended to be part of one of them. She wouldn't have figured it out that quickly. And this conversation would be over.

Clarke's arm tightens on his arm. "And this conversation has been terrible and humiliating, so we're leaving." She glares at her mother. "For once, someone I actually _like_ is at one of these things, can't you be nice for five minutes?"

Bellamy feels his neck heat up. _Like_ can mean a lot of things, but--this might not be going as badly as he thought it would. Everything relating to Clarke's mother is a disaster and he hasn't seen Octavia and Murphy in like ten minutes so they're probably breaking something or got themselves kicked out, but that was bound to happen eventually.

And Clarke likes him.

Her mother sort of opens and closes her mouth at them, but Clarke is tugging him, so Bellamy goes with her.

"I'm really sorry about her," Clarke says.

"It's okay." He rubs the back of his neck. "I was sort of expecting it. You were right, this isn't really my usual scene."

"It's not mine either," she says. "Well, it is, I go to this stuff, but I'm not--I don't care about the stuff my mom cares about, you know? I don't have a list of rich Blakes memorized just in case I have to interrogate my daughters' friends about their backgrounds."

"I should have just picked one and said I was his nephew or something."

"She knows all the ones that are only children," Clarke says, rolling her eyes. She's led him out of the hospital, into a small garden area. It's almost March and not really that warm yet, but Clarke still takes off her shoes and stretches, apparently not worried about freezing. He guesses if he was wearing heels, he'd probably want to get out of them as quickly as possible too. "I don't even know how she does it, honestly. She has memorized so many family trees. It's why she's such a great politician. And I'm--" She grins. "I'm the kind of politician you want in power if you're in a war, she's the kind of politician you want in power if you're fundraising."

Bellamy has to laugh. "Yeah, I would definitely want you in power in a crisis. I've seen you when you're mad."

"You haven't," she says, amused. "You've seen me when I'm annoyed." He laughs again, and she grins, but there's something thoughtful lurking around her eyes. "But--seriously, Bellamy. What are you doing here? I'm trying to reconcile the guy I know with someone who comes to something like this."

"I like you," he says, helpless. It's not like he can really explain. "And--"

"And you thought you had to bankrupt yourself to get a date with me?" He can't quite read her tone, but he thinks she might be annoyed. Or at least frustrated. "You could have just asked."

"I wanted to see what it was like. Your whole--" He waves his hand to encompass Clarke's life. "I promise, I didn't spend a penny on this, okay?"

She frowns, like she's thinking his answer over, trying to figure out if she believes him. "You're going to tell me how you did it."

"It's a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

He considers, trying to figure out what to say. Because _I wanted to test my genie_ is an explanation that doesn't really make anyone feel better. "How about I tell you over dinner sometime?" he finally asks. It comes out sounding kind of smooth, which is a miracle. All he was really trying for was not desperate.

It's her turn to consider, giving him a look that makes him feel like she's seeing right through him, like she's examining every inch of him. No one has ever looked at him like that before, so thoroughly, and he thinks it should be scary, but it's mostly exhilarating. If she can look at him like that and still like him, he must be doing okay.

"It better be one hell of an explanation," she says.

"It better be, because it's going to be a shitty dinner." He leans in close, like he's telling her a secret. "I'm really poor."

Clarke laughs and winds her arms around his neck, getting up on her toes. "You're ridiculous," she says, and kisses him.

*

"It's like you didn't even _see Aladdin_ ," Octavia grumbles. She looks at Murphy. "Can you do the _tell her the truth_ thing? Like in the movie? With the blackboard?"

Murphy looks vaguely annoyed at being distracted from Mario Maker, but he snaps his fingers and a blackboard appears next to Octavia, with _TELL HER THE_ written on it. Octavia beams. "Okay, Bell, what are you telling her?"

"You know, when you're living in a Disney movie, _I have a genie_ is way easier to say." He frowns. "Also wasn't he telling her he was poor? I told her that. I could probably just come up with a non-magical explanation for--"

Octavia flips the blackboard to the reverse side, which says _TRUTH YOU FUCKING DICKWEED_.

"I wanted to add my own special touch," says Murphy.

"You know if she finds out genies are real she might be--" He considers, and then flops down on the couch. "Incredibly confused. I cannot tell her this at dinner. She's going to throw a drink in my face, storm out, and never talk to me again. I guess I have two wishes left, I can blow the second one on _prove to the girl I like that you're real_ and still have one left to get us some cash or something." He smiles a little, nudges Octavia. "That's always one of the wishes, right? Fix the damage you did with other wishes? I guess it's usually the last one," he adds, thoughtful.

But Octavia's not smiling; she's scowling at him like he has personally betrayed her. "You don't have two wishes, Bell. You have _one_ wish."

"I've only--"

"The last wish isn't fixing everything. The last wish is freeing the genie."

Bellamy blinks a few times, and then looks at Murphy. He's concentrating on the game in that pointed way people do when they don't want to seem like they're thinking about anything else. It hadn't really occurred to him, that Murphy might want to be free. Murphy seemed pretty generally good with his life.

"You want to be free?" he asks Murphy.

"Huh?" asks Murphy.

"You said you liked your flashlight," he says. "But, I dunno. I guess if it was that great you wouldn't be on our shitty couch all the time." He looks down. "Not that it's that shitty anymore," he says, poking the cushion. 

"I was gonna fuck up my back," Murphy grumbles. 

"Okay, so, I only have one wish," he says. "Fine. I won't waste it on Clarke. I'll just--"

"Have you thought about _asking_ for shit?" says Murphy, still refusing to look away from the screen. He spits the question like it's an attack. "You don't have to say _I wish_ to get me to do you a fucking favor, Bellamy."

Bellamy opens and shuts his mouth a few times; Octavia is looking smug next to him. "I bet he never even thanked you for the new stuff."

"He's so fucking ungrateful," Murphy agrees, and hands Bellamy the Wii controller. "Run this level and tell me if it's too hard."

"It's literally just spikes and fire."

"There's a chain chomp in there somewhere."

He's died like five times before he says, "Thanks, Murphy." He wets his lips. "I'll just bring her back here for dinner, yeah? Make something nice, tell her I accidentally adopted a genie. It happens to everybody, right?"

"Fuck you, I'm still two thousand years old," Murphy grumbles. "I adopted you."

*

Clarke shows up at the library right before his shift ends at six.

"I'm really excited for shitty dinner," she says, bouncing a little. She's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, and Bellamy thinks she looks even better than she had the previous night, all fancy. "Are we going to MacDonald's? I want a McFlurry. Maybe _two_ McFlurries."

Bellamy laughs and leans down to kiss her, which ends up taking a lot longer than he planned, mostly because she kisses back and that's very hard to stop doing.

"I'm going to cook for you, actually," he says, grinning at her when he finally manages to pull away. "You should get used to home-cooked meals if you want to date me. And, uh, my sister and Murphy. You also need to get used to them."

"The not-boyfriend you don't want to explain."

He takes her hand, laces their fingers together, and she squeezes gently. Which is the best thing that's happened to him this month, somehow, including the genie and the kissing and all the new stuff in his apartment. Something about Clarke Griffin's hand in his is just perfect, and he realizes how sad it is that he had to jump through all these weird, magical hoops when literally all he had to do was ask.

Octavia's right, he really has not learned all the lessons Disney movies tried to teach him.

"I'm going to explain him too. It's all connected."

"You know you're building the anticipation here, right? Like, my expectations are really high. This had better be something really special."

Bellamy's fingers tighten on her hand, mostly from affection, not nervousness. "Magical."

He's spared even having to start the _so I found a genie_ story because when they walk in, Murphy and Octavia are playing some sort of weird game where he throws fireballs and she tries to hit them with an empty paper towel roll.

"Is this what you guys do when I'm not home?" Bellamy asks. Clarke is sort of staring, which is about what he expected. "Please don't burn down the apartment."

"It's _magic_ fire," says Octavia. "It's not gonna burn anything down." She waves. "Hi, you must be Clarke!"

"Yeah, uh, this is my sister Octavia, and this is Murphy. He's a genie that came out of a flashlight I found on the bus."

"It's a _lamp_ ," Murphy grumbles.

"It's a flashlight." He glances at Clarke, sees she's still staring, open-mouthed. "Um, so, yeah. I figured I should test, like--whether or not he was one of those really literal genies who was gonna destroy my life? But mostly he just wants to sit around on the couch eating junk food and swearing at Netflix, so, yeah. I have to figure out a second wish and then I'll free him and--I assume at some point you're gonna kick me in the balls or something because I know this sounds fucking insane. Whenever you feel like it, go ahead."

"I can do some cool genie shit," Murphy offers. "You want some cool genie shit? Does she like flowers?" He produces some flowers from nowhere, and Bellamy rubs the back of his neck.

"I didn't know how to, uh--I know literally everything about this is surreal and fucked up. But, honestly, yeah. I used my first wish to get me and O into the party, and then Murphy just tagged along."

Clarke opens and closes her mouth a couple times and then says, "Three wishes, and you wasted one of them on a stupid _hospital benefit_?"

"It was a tactical decision," he grumbles. "You, testing. Seeing what he'd do."

"It was such a shitty test," Murphy protests. "He had every detail in the wish. He _wrote it down_."

Clarke looks like she's biting back a smile. "So, you found a genie in a flashlight and your first response wasn't, I don't know, genies aren't real, I'm having a psychotic break, this is a dream, it was--I bet the genie is going to try and fuck me over."

"I've read enough myths and fairy tales to know how genies work, okay?" Bellamy says, trying not to blush. But Clarke laughs and presses against his side, all bright, warm affection, and he can't help smiling too.

"Seriously, the grumpiest person I have ever met," she says, pecking him on the cheek, and then turns to Octavia and Murphy. "So, Bellamy's cooking, right? I want in on fire-baseball."

*

In the end, they agree that a winning lottery ticket is probably best. There's some publicity for it, but not too much, and everything is legal and on the up and up, so no one's going to be suspicious. Bellamy even buys the ticket; Murphy just rigs the numbers. It means Bellamy can quit his job at the restaurant, and take Clarke out on some actual dates, and get a bigger apartment, with an actual room for Murphy, instead of him having to sleep on the couch, now that he's free. He remains convinced the couch would have fucked up his back, even though he's not even corporeal half the time.

It should probably be weirder, having Murphy actually living with them, but the kid--Bellamy doesn't care how old he is, he's a kid--needs someone to look out for him, and he can't cook for shit, and he did give them a bunch of money and new stuff, so Bellamy figures they probably owe him. And he is technically someone who can look out for Octavia, even if he is neither responsible nor a real adult.

Clarke's mom accepts that Bellamy is an important part of her daughter's life, which is awesome, if mildly terrifying, and she seems happier with him now that she's figured out he's some overwhelmed nouveau riche kid. Which, okay, he technically is, but it still feels inaccurate, because it's so much cooler and more complicated than that. He won the lottery with genie magic. That's _awesome_ , and he's not getting any credit for it.

"You really want to tell my mother you got money from _genie magic_?" Clarke asks, poking him in the side. Bellamy kisses her hair. "I'm just saying, I know it sucks that she's--" She looks away, and Bellamy feels guilty. 

"I don't care that she thinks I'm, like--trailer trash or whatever. But--" He scowls. "Who buys _lottery tickets_?"

Clarke breaks out laughing, collapsing against his side. He's glad Octavia and Murphy are out, because she's definitely way too close for him to not end up jumping her. Which he assumes is where the phrase _Neflix and chill_ came from, and is probably why Octavia told Murphy they were going to the movies for his date in the first place.

"That's what you're worried about?" Clarke asks. "That my mom thinks you buy lottery tickets?"

"It's so stupid! They're such a waste of money!"

"Okay," says Clarke. "Well, I told her you buy one a year, as a birthday present for your sister, because you guys didn't have much money and it was kind of exciting, and this year you just got lucky, so, you know. She doesn't think this is a regular thing for you."

Bellamy looks at her with some degree of awe. "You're the fucking _best_."

"I love that this is what you're worried about. Not, like, my anachronistically aristocratic mom being a snob, just that she thinks you buy lottery tickets. And you'd rather tell her about your magical genie than have her think that, even though she would probably have you committed or something. Even if Murphy threw a fireball at her."

Bellamy has to laugh too, because--when she puts it like that, yeah, he is being completely ridiculous. So he leans in for a kiss. "What I'm hearing is that you like me because I'm an idiot."

"Basically, yeah."

"Thank god, I can stop trying to hide it."

"Wait, this was you trying to hide it?" she teases. "Fuck, I'm doomed."

"Totally doomed," he agrees, and she tugs him down for another, much longer kiss.

All in all, he thinks they're definitely headed for a pretty decent happily ever after.


End file.
